Take Care
by Roxy Rosee
Summary: After the attack on the quarry, Shane finds Daryl alone and hurting, sitting by the water. Shane finds a way to ease Daryl's pain, and meet both of their needs.


When all was said and done, it was still too dark, and too quiet. Andrea sat quietly sobbing with her sister's body in her arms. Lori and Carl were wrapped together by the RV, thanking _Rick_, of all people, for saving them. As if he'd had anything to do with it. By Shane's calculations, Rick was more responsible for this massacre than anyone.

Handcuffing that redneck to the roof…fine, he could justify that. But going back for him? And risking their people to do it? Shane kicked at the dirt by the fire, staring out into the woods with his shackles raised. Rick may have come back from the dead, but he wasn't meant for this world.

Most of the group was huddled by or inside Dale's RV, and Shane trekked from tent to tent, assessing who was dead, who was injured, and who was just plain scared. With everyone else accounted for, he went to the camp furthest out, the one the Dixon brothers shared. It was vacant.

But that wasn't right, because Shane was more than positive that he'd seen Daryl return. He couldn't imagine even someone as hotheaded as the younger Dixon going hunting at night, alone. So Shane began to trek over to the only other conceivable spot the archer might have been hiding: the quarry.

He was surprised when Daryl didn't jump right up as he approached. Shane knew he wasn't a particularly light walker, not nearly the hunter that Daryl was. But the youngest Dixon remained hunched over, sitting by the water. Shane crept closer, and slowly realized that Daryl was shaking noticeably. But it wasn't out of fear; that wasn't the Dixon way. He got closer still, and then he could hear it. Daryl was crying.

Only a few feet away now, Daryl worked frantically to smear away the wetness on his cheeks. Shane heard him suck in a shuddering breath. With a sigh, Shane plopped down beside him, looking out at the water.

"Ain't lookin' for company, Shane," Daryl muttered, voice thick. He watched the ex-officer out of his periphery.

"I get that," Shane said softly, "But you really think bein' down here by yourself is a good idea? After what just happened?"

"I can take care of myself," Daryl snapped, one hand tightening around his bow.

"I know that," Shane replied in a slow, placating tone, "Still, I'd feel better if you were back with everyone else. And I know they'd feel safer too, with you around."

Daryl refused to look at him, and remained silent.

"You didn't find him," Shane eventually said. No part of it a question; and Daryl visibly shuddered.

"We…we got there…and, it was just his hand," Daryl whispered, struggling to get the words out. He was shaking, again. "Just the saw, and the cuffs, and his hand. He- he c-cut it off, he—" Daryl interrupted himself with a choked back sob, and Shane reacted on instinct.

He pulled Daryl across his lap, pressing them chest to chest and pushing Daryl's face to his neck. And to his credit, Daryl fought him off. He scratched at Shane's chest, tried to push himself away.

"Shane, get off! Lemme go!"

But Shane only held him tighter, one hand carding through Daryl's messy locks.

"It's alright," he murmured against Daryl's forehead, "It's okay. You don't have to."

Daryl grunted his disapproval, heart rate picking up as a bout of panic flooded over him. He fought harder against Shane's grip, tears streaming down his face.

"You're okay," Shane murmured soothingly, a picture of composure despite the circumstances. "It's okay, Daryl. Everything's gonna be okay."

All at once, the fight evaporated exhaustedly from Daryl's body, and he melted into Shane's embrace. He cried silently against Shane's chest, fisting the other man's shirt and letting someone else hold him together for a change.

"That's it," Shane kept murmuring to him, "That's good, Daryl. You're alright."

And between Shane's low, easy tone, and the slow movements of his hands, Daryl's trembling slowly abated.

"Merle's a tough son of a bitch," Shane told him, "He'll survive out there. You know that."

"But he didn't come back," Daryl said softly, "Didn't wait for me."

"He was high," Shane quickly reminded him, "That's what Rick said. Means he wasn't in his right state of mind."

"Yeah," Daryl sighed defeatedly. There was a long silence, before Shane felt Daryl's chapped lips press to the nape of his neck. He might have mistaken it for a change in position, an accident, if he hadn't felt Daryl's tongue next, mouth sucking at the spot.

Shane gasped sharply, "Daryl, what are you-?"

"I need to," Daryl interrupted him, "Need it, Shane."

The ex-officer watched him closely for a beat, and then nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

As soon as the words had escaped his lips, Daryl launched himself at him. Their lips moved together haphazardly, fingers fumbled for buttons and belts.

Shane tried to rip away Daryl's shirt.

"Not off," the man huffed.

"Open, then," Shane insisted, and Daryl let him finish unbuttoning his flannel. Daryl pushed Shane to his back, and groaned far too loud when the ex-Officer pushed both their jeans down just far enough to fist their cocks together.

"Fuck, fuck yeah," Daryl panted, thrusting into the tight grip of Shane's hand. And when Shane's free appendage snaked around to grasp Daryl by the ass, the younger Dixon just went with it, letting the other man guide him into every push.

Shane leaned up and sucked Daryl's lower lip into his mouth, relishing the groan he got in response. He felt Daryl nip at the skin below his ear, sucking hard enough to bruise.

"Fuck, Daryl," Shane moaned, and the younger man pulled back to look him in the eye. "Do you want to?"

Briefly, it seemed that Daryl had no clue what he was implying. But then realization dawned across his features, and his eyes darkened. He swallowed thickly, and nodded. But still, Shane could see the hesitance there; and he thought he understood why.

"Me," he murmured emphatically, and Daryl's eyes widened.

"Alright," he drawled.

"You got any slick?"

Daryl seemed blindsided by the question, momentarily. But then he reached over towards his bow. He pushed a small bottle into Shane's hand.

"Grape seed oil?"

"Yeah. S'all I could find. For my bow, I mean," Daryl muttered, while Shane slipped the rest of the way out of his jeans. He lay back again, allowing Daryl to lean over him.

"What do ya need me to do?" Daryl asked him, expression so open and forthright that Shane wanted to smile.

"You ever done this with a guy?" Shane questioned in response.

Daryl shook his head. "Couldn't."

And Shane wanted to ask what he meant by that. He really did. But Daryl was stroking his cock with this look of hesitant curiosity on his face, and Shane couldn't form words around his low moan. He had a brief thought that if Daryl _couldn't_ before, but _could_ now, then maybe Merle's disappearance wasn't such a bad thing.

"Ain't like a girl," Shane explained, "Gotta open 'em up first."

Daryl seemed to accept that, coating several fingers in oil. With Shane's nod of approval, he slowly slid one inside, working it in and out. When Shane's body began to relax around him, Daryl added a second.

His fingers grazed over something with a vaguely different texture than the rest, and Shane threw his head back with a moan.

"That…that feels good?" Daryl asked, genuinely interested.

"Yeah," Shane breathed, "Fuck, do it again."

Daryl began to aim for that spot, watching Shane's cock twitch and jerk each time he rubbed against it. He added a third finger, and Shane began to rock against his hand, biting his lip around the constant moan.

"Jesus, Daryl, you've gotta stop. Keep that up and I'm gonna blow," Shane groaned. Blue eyes shot up to meet him, and a sheepish smile cracked across the archer's face. "M'ready, man. C'mon."

Daryl sat back on his haunches, and watched Shane move to his hands and knees.

"You sure?" Daryl asked once, when Shane looked at him over his shoulder.

Shane groaned in frustration, body flushed from arousal. "Quit pussyfootin' around and fuck me, Dixon."

Daryl didn't need to be told twice. He slid into Shane slowly, both of them moaning as he filled Shane up. He was tighter than anyone Daryl had fucked. Hotter, too. And it took everything Daryl had not to slam home. But he waited once he'd bottomed out, leaning over Shane and panting against the sweat-slick skin of his back.

Shane rolled his hips experimentally, and they both groaned at the friction.

"Fuck," Daryl breathed, "Jesus Christ…"

"C'mon," Shane demanded, pushing himself back against Daryl's length, "C'mon."

Without the least bit of hesitation, Daryl grabbed Shane by the hips and thrust forward as hard as he could. And when Shane only moaned in response, Daryl figured he could throw caution to the wind. He fucked Shane hard and fast, their bodies slamming against each other with the kind of force he'd never be able to use on a woman.

It didn't take long for Daryl to work out the right angle, the one that hit Shane's prostate every time, and had the man clenching and groaning underneath him.

"Daryl, please," Shane gasped. He wasn't one to beg, but his cock was aching, hanging there as it was. A calloused hand wrapped around him, and he moaned gratefully, throwing Daryl a heated glance over his shoulder.

"Fuck, oh fuck," Daryl groaned, bucking harder. "Gonna come."

Shane couldn't spare the oxygen to tell him he was already there. His cock jerked in Daryl's grip, shooting at the ground, and over Daryl's hand. And when Shane clenched around him, Daryl let loose an animal-like moan and buried himself deep inside, hips thrusting in shallow, instinctual movements as Shane milked him of every drop.

Giving himself a minute to catch his breath, Daryl eventually slid gently away from Shane. They both righted their clothes, not saying a word. Finished, they stood at the edge of the quarry again. And when Shane reached out to stroke Daryl's neck affectionately, the younger man let him.

"We're leavin' tomorrow," Shane said, and Daryl nodded. "I know you want to find your brother. I know you don't trust everyone in this group, and that's fine. And what I know more than anything is that you could survive on your own. There ain't no one I've ever met whose better suited for it."

Daryl let out a little huff at that, and Shane took a small step closer.

"But Daryl," he waited for the younger Dixon to meet his eyes, smiled when he did, "You belong with us, okay? Just because you can make it on your own, doesn't mean you have to. Doesn't mean you _should_."

Daryl looked up at Shane from underneath his bangs, biting steadily at his lip.

"Tell me you ain't gonna take off tonight, as soon as I'm lookin' the other way," Shane said softly, "Tell me you'll stay with us tomorrow."

Shane watched him frown out at the water for a moment, then look back at him with a softer expression, shoulders relaxing. "M' not goin' anywhere," Daryl said, with a tone of finality.

Shane smiled. Ruffled his hair a little. "Alright. Let's get back, then."

Daryl shouldered his crossbow, and the pair of men walked in step with one another back towards the group, maintaining a companionable silence.


End file.
